The Golden Hour | This
song
has been waiting *forever* to be included on an album. I actually
wrote it years ago, while Mary Beth and I were still living in
Port Townsend. The year was 2003. I was retrieving the mail from
the mailbox one September evening, and the last bit of sunlight
was giving everything a golden hue. I said something about the
magical light to our neighbor as she picked up her mail, and
she launched into a discussion of the “golden
hour,"
a photographer’s term I’d never heard before. A few
hours later, I had the lyrics, the chords, and the melody. Sometimes
they really come that easy.
Later that fall,
Tommy Thew (engineer and occasional 5th member of the band),
Jay Perry (former bass player), and Roger Johnson traveled to
Port Townsend, and we recorded the song, along with another one,
in our backyard studio. Just a little demo, which has been sitting
idle for almost a decade. Well, we e-mailed an mp3 of the demo
to Roger and Greg a few weeks ago, and everyone went to work
learning/relearning their parts. One rehearsal at the Strickland
abode was all we needed before taking the song to Elliott
Bay Recording Co.
last Saturday.
In the studio,
Roger Johnson nailed the drum part on his second take, and the
tone was set for the rest of the day. The lads from Soul
Theory
sat in on the session and were drafted for a sing-along chorus
at the end of the song. Also joining the fun, Gibson Kite made
his first appearance behind the microphone.
For the video,
we collaborated with long-time friend and globe-trotting photographer
John
Greengo,
whose panoramic shots during the golden hour contrasted nicely
with studio footage.
raven goes
red
blackbird to rust
and the tree line turns to dust
and it seems to me
the only place to live
is in the space of forgetting who I am
horizon washed out
blinding sun sea
and the summer turns to leave
and it seems to me
the only place to heal
is in the day that’s dying in me
the golden hour
we’ll never grow sour
as long as you’re with me
ooh, maybe we want to
ooh, maybe we ought to
ooh, maybe we whisper
ooh, maybe we call out
raven goes red
a love I can trust
and your memory turns to dust
and it seems to me
the only way to live
is to make fear your passion, your grace
horizon washed out
blinding sun sea
and the summer turns to leave
and it seems to me
the only place to heal
is in the day that’s dying in me
the golden hour
we’ll never grow sour
as long as you’re with me
- Matt
28 MARCH, 2012
Sunday Station | For the second song
of of our year-long project of recording one song a month, we
said goodbye to the Marshall half stack (or at least turned it
down) and said hello to the grand piano and cello, with Dan (drums)
and Brenda Hazen (backup vocals) joining us last Saturday for
the first time since, gulp, 1995.
"Sunday
Station"
began on the piano one day when I was exploring our new keyboard,
a Yamaha
DGX-640.
The melody came next, but I only had a few lines for quite some
time, and those lines were borrowed from another song that never
quite went anywhere. Then one day I went for a run through the
soggy trails at Snake
Lake
here in Tacoma and the rest of the lyrics came to me:
your love
feels like Sunday Station
slow coach pulling away
broken rooftops, father’s watch stops
miles and miles to feel this way
ooh, wish I was
ooh, wish I could
your love
feels like Red Square Sunrise
still life waiting to be born
dizzy heartbeats, worried smile lines
I’m ready to be torn
ooh, wish
I was
ooh, wish I could
your love
changes everything
your love makes me blind
Most of the lyrics
are personal and symbolic. The first verse draws from a trip
to France Mary Beth and I took shortly after we were first married.
We were sitting in a tiny train station in Amboise in the Loire Valley
one overcast Sunday morning in June, and the place was all but
deserted. We took the slow train to the south of France, rolling
through bucolic scenery most of the way. One of the lines from
that first verse, “Father’s watch stops,” came
to me unbidden (as many of our lyrics do). I think it’s
the result of reading one too many Thomas Mann novels in my college
years.
The second verse,
meanwhile, is a nod to Red Square at Western Washington University in Bellingham, where
I went to school many moons ago (Greg and MB also went to WWU).
But of course there are many Red
Squares
in the world, from the UW campus in Seattle to the mother of
all Red Squares in Moscow, Russia.
Overall, the
song is about love, but not just love between two people. Love
of place. Love of beauty. Love of those timeless moments when
life seems so grand it makes the heart ache (in a good way).
We sent a simple
demo of the song to Dan, Brenda, and Greg, and after everyone
took a moment to think out their respective parts, we met at
Greg’s place in Fremont for a couple hours of
playing, recording, listening, and arranging. By the end of it,
we had a song in place and were ready to record. All of us felt
a tad nervous, since we were leaving our comfort zone (guitar
rock) and trying something new. Greg, along with playing bass,
would be bringing his cello to the recording session. And the
bulk of the song was based around my piano part. I’ve played
piano on a few TWBA songs, but usually the piano has been used
to augment a song, not anchor it.
At Elliott
Bay Recording Co.,
we needed twelve hours to record, mix, and master the song (engineer/producer
Scott Ross was his usual self behind the console: fast, efficient,
and tireless). It didn’t help that Mary Beth, Gibson, and
I locked ourselves out of our house that morning and were late
to the studio (ack!). But despite the slow start and the nerves
beforehand, we ended up with something truly unique and triumphant.
Everybody knocked it out of the park with their respective instruments,
but the sum was even greater than those parts. We were once again
blessed by the (musical) gods.
- Matt
25 FEBRUARY,
2012
Small Men Need Fear | We’re one song
into our year-long project of recording the next album. You can
listen to "Small Men Need Fear," recorded last Saturday
at Elliott Bay Recording Co., here. And below is the video:
This song has actually been in the hopper for a number of years.
I wrote the lyrics not long after the Abu
Ghraib
scandal in 2004. Angry and disillusioned, I reflected on how
such things come to pass. I realized that fear often leads us
down the wrong path, and that the people in power—usually
men—don’t just prey on our fear but are caught up in
it themselves.
Because the song
is at times much harder than the usual TWBA song (with the exception
of material on the “War Stories” album), it ended up being shelved
until now. With most albums, we try to set a largely consistent
tone musically, but we’ve vowed to let “Siren,”
the current project, take us wherever it goes, without any preconceived
notions (or constraints).
It was quite
a thrill to have Dave
Warburton
back on the drums. The guy just oozes energy and has a great
instinctual feel for how he approaches the song. We sent him
a demo to listen to for a few weeks, and then the four of us
got together for one rehearsal and hashed out the arrangement.
We recorded the rehearsal, practiced our respective parts individually,
and then met last Saturday at Elliott Bay Recording
Co. to
lay the song down. The process wasn’t rushed, per se, but
we definitely kept things moving quickly enough to maintain a
certain level of spontaneity.
Scott Ross, engineer and long-time friend at Elliott Bay,
has a huge pile of old-school gear at his disposal, so I was
excited to plug into a Marshall half stack for some of the bigger
guitar sounds. We also did something different, which was to
use minimal microphones on the drums (five) and record the bass
and drums together live (Greg and Dave locked up after just a
few takes). That left only the guitar and vocal overdubs and
kept the feel raw and energetic. In contrast to our approach
to Bells, our 2011 album, which
was pretty slick/polished, we deliberately set out this time
to achieve something tougher and more bottom-heavy. We also wanted
to give MB room to cut loose, which she did on the third verse.
Perhaps the song’s best moment comes when she belts out
the final vocal line of the song: “All men need... mothers!"
Some songs are
harder than others to capture in the studio. This one turned
out just the way we wanted it to, so we left the studio on Saturday
tired but giddy with satisfaction.
These are
the best times
These are the worst times
This is the only time for you and me to get it right
This is the long night
This is the long war
This is the tunnel with no merciful end in sight
Small men need fear
This is the low ground
This is the bloody sound
This is the road to torture paved in legalese
We are the sheep-lemmings
They are the chicken-things
This is the shit they want you to swallow on your knees
Small men need fear
Small men breathe fear
[repeat of first verse, one octave up]
Small men
pray fear
Small men tax fear
Small men vote fear
Small men hide fear
All men need...
mothers
- Matt
30 JANUARY, 2012
Song of the month | Bells is less than five months old, but we're
already preparing for the next album, tentatively entitled Siren.
There's plenty of excitement around this next project, and much
of that has to do with the creative process itself. The plan
is to record one song a month and document the song and the process
on YouTube. Starting in late February,
you'll be able to watch the album as it comes together. And if
all goes as planned, it will be ready before Christmas, 2012.
3 . q u e s t i o n s We
interview anyone who will talk to us . . .
2 MAY, 2012
With Roger Johnson
Q. It’s been just over
a decade since you laid down the drums for the Be album (2001). Some of
that time you’ve been playing on stage with TWBA, but you’ve
also been involved with a few other bands and projects. Can you
bring fans up to speed on what you’ve been doing?
A. Yeah, I can't believe it's been that long since
we did Be! I played with the incredible singer-songwriter
Kellee
Bradley.
She got the call one day to open for John Mellencamp on
his "Cuttin' Heads" tour during the summer of 2001.
The highlight was playing the mainstage Gorge Amphitheater. We
got the full nine yards: our own trailer, food, and drinks. I
also started (and continue) to play with The
Bourbonites.
We have one record so far to our name: This Is Just a Drem
(dream). Between TWBA and The Bourbonites, we've had songs on
top-40 radio as well as renown independent station KEXP. Congratulations...to
us!
Q. You’ve often said,
“I’m a drum player, not a drummer.” What’s
the difference?
A. I just like to say things
like that. My credits on the back of The Bourbonites album read,
"Roger Johnson: drums, no percussion..." Seriously,
why do drummers feel the need to write, "drums, percussion."
I think everybody knows that's what they do. I have to laugh
when I read Neil Peart's credits. He lists drum set, tuned crotales, glockenspiel, chimes,
blocks, gong, timpani...and even concert toms. I think the next
record will say, "Roger Johnson hits things that make sounds
on this record."
Q. You’re stranded
on the proverbial desert island and can only bring one thing
with you: your drum set, a copy of This
Is Spinal Tap
(and something to play it with), or your favorite video game.
Which is it and why?
A. I would take my drumset
because then I can get some serious practice. Between family
life, my son's extracurricular activities, playing with you guys
and The Bourbonites, as well as going to Northwest
University
(I'm on track for my Master's in Education), I just don't have
any time to sit down and really get a good workout. So give me
a few weeks before you seriously start looking for me. I'd love
to be able to do a drum solo like Keith Carlock. That is the
type of solo I want to be able to do.
Q. Let’s go back in
time to 1995, Crow Recording, and the making of the Hazen album. How do you feel
about that EP and the recording of it now, so many years later?
A. I recall that, at the time, I was the
“old salt” in the band when it came to recording (with
a grand total of about a half dozen sessions under my belt).
Of course all of that experience was in an analog context, and
honestly, less-than-professional environments. So when I listen
to Hazen now, I remember having
a lot of FUN doing those songs essentially LIVE and with little
or no production value added. Comparing Hazen to later TWBA work also
makes me realize how skilled Matt, MB, and the others had become
at the art of recording. I haven’t done ANY recording since
1995, so it makes me a little jealous and quite nervous, frankly:
now I’m TOTALLY the rookie!
So... I have
very fond memories of the experience, but I’d like to go
back and correct all my mistakes, slow down a couple tempos,
take more TIME to get it right, and use all the cool “new”
gear. :)
Q. Your music career didn’t
end when you left TWBA. What have you and Brenda been up to in
the years since? Maybe you could share a bit about your latest
band, SoulCurve.
A. The lion’s share
of our musical efforts has been at our church. I was the music director
there for twelve years, and Brenda has been a worship leader
and vocalist. We both perform there almost weekly. I have done
short stints with cover bands here and there, but five years
ago, SoulCurve came together. Our thing
is to choose songs we really like from any genre (we’ve
got Zeppelin, Gershwin, and The Atlanta Rhythm Section!) and
we do them our own way. We “curve” them. It’s
a lot of fun, and we get out every four to eight weeks or so
for gigs around Snohomish County.
Q. You two are big U2 fans
(sorry for the bad wordplay). You’re also practicing Christians.
U2 went through a phase early in their career when they almost
walked away from the music, but they found a way to reconcile
rock and roll with their faith. You must have fought similar
battles over the years, but your story is different. You brought
music to your church, Allen Creek. Can you share a little bit about that?
A. Oh, Matty, Matt, Matt,
Matt! Whoever could have inspired you to ask such a question…hmmmm?
SAYT-n!?
Seriously, there’s
big important stuff in that question, and brief, relevant answers
are hard to give, but let me try.
Brenda and I
are blessed to be part of a community that recognizes the God
of the Bible as the source of creativity…THE Creator. As
such, we are free to acknowledge His presence in all art. In
other words, if God created artist A, then God is somewhere
inside artist A’s work, regardless of what artist
A thinks. It doesn’t matter if I like my dad, ever
met him, or even acknowledge him -- I still have his eyes. So
we look for family resemblances in all art. It’s just easier
to find in some art than in others.
This idea frees
Christians to enjoy the artistic expression of whatever context
they find themselves in: Brenda and I grew up in the 20th century
western United States...so guess what? We like to rock. It just
so happens that wherever or with whomever we rock…we rock
for Jesus. :)
While pop music
is our preferred form, this view of creativity also means that
at our church, we have the privilege to play all kinds of music
from Rage Against the Machine to ancient, nameless hymns to TWBA!
(That’s right! In May, we will be performing “When
Machines Eat”
by TWBA for a sermon series about technology!) We also embrace
dance, poetry, drama, and the visual arts.
But the sad truth
is this: in the church (and elsewhere) God is forced into little
censorship boxes that we build for him. As Christ followers,
Brenda and I are called to change that from inside the church.
As St.
Augustine
is credited with saying: “The church is a whore. But she
is my mother.”
A. Yeah, I can't believe it's been that long since
we did Be! I played with the incredible singer-songwriter
A. I recall that, at the time, I was the
“old salt” in the band when it came to recording (with
a grand total of about a half dozen sessions under my belt).
Of course all of that experience was in an analog context, and
honestly, less-than-professional environments. So when I listen
to